


going to be okay (peter parker)

by certifiedweirdo



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedweirdo/pseuds/certifiedweirdo
Summary: Anxiety was so fucking horribleSome days he’d just wake up, and it should’ve been a normal day. He’d have actually went to sleep somewhat early the night before, and his homework would be done, and he’d wake up on time. But some shitty god out there decided that today he was going to be plagued by his stupid anxiety.





	going to be okay (peter parker)

Anxiety was so fucking weird.

Sometimes it was caused by something expected to cause it--big buildings, drowning, flashbacks. Other times it hit him like a tsunami for absolutely no reason. He’d just be sitting in class, or watching a movie, then that horrible feeling would come--uninvited, obviously--and so would that pressure in his stomach that made him feel like he was going to throw up, and his whole body would start shaking slightly and he’d feel tears building up behind his eyelids and he’d bite his lip and--

Anyway, anxiety was fucking horrible.

Like, really, why the heck did it even exist? Yeah, for survival or whatever, but who fucking cares about that?

Some days he’d just wake up, and it should’ve been a normal day. He’d have actually went to sleep somewhat early the night before, and his homework would be done, and he’d wake up on time. But some shitty god out there decided that today he was going to be plagued by his stupid anxiety. Thanks, dude. 

Then he’d be jumpy all day and his friends would worry and think he’s hurt or something, but in reality, it’s just that anxiety is stupid. 

Today had turned out to be one of those shitty anxiety days. Life had been going so good for the past week or so--he was ahead in a couple of classes, actually getting a semi-reasonable amount of sleep and nutrition, and the whole Spiderman thing was going amazingly. Yet, thanks to that stupid-ass god out there who decided these things, he was on guard and felt horrible all day. Well, he was pretty much always was on guard, thanks to his spidey-senses, but on these kinds of days his senses seemed to have doubled in strength. Yay. 

He barely ate any of his lunch--which he’d even prepared the night before! Then, his day got even worse as he headed to his class after lunch hour. Neither Ned nor MJ were in this class, and they both headed to the complete opposite end of the school. Just his luck. 

Peter checked the time on his phone--a cool new one, courtesy of Mr. Stark--as he walked through the crowded hallway when he felt someone’s hand brush his ass. No doubt, it was an accident, but with the anxiety already coursing through Peter’s veins, this small touch made his breath hitch, and he nearly froze in the middle of the hallway. 

He had to get out. Whoever had touched him had already left--he didn’t even know who it was, but that didn’t matter. In his mind, he was seeing somebody else. Somebody who he hadn’t seen in a long time, and hadn’t freaked out about in a little while was now filling his brain, and he was unable to think of anything else and he couldn’t breathe and--oh god, he couldn’t breathe. How do you breathe? Such a simple thing, we hardly ever stop it, and it comes so easily most of the time, yet right now Peter had absolutely no idea how to do it. He tried to take in some air, but he kept breathing heavily and he’d started hyperventilating, and, thank god, there was a bathroom right there. 

He practically ran into the nearest bathroom, locking himself in a stall. With superhuman speed, he closed the toilet lid, and sat down on it, trying to ignore just how disgusting school bathrooms were. He half registered the bell ringing above his head, signaling the beginning of class, but he did not care right now. All he cared about was getting Skip’s fucking face out of his head. And not just his face. 

All he could think of was Skip. Logically, he knew it was okay for him to not be over this, but at the same time, he wished he was. Life would be so much easier. He could see the older boy’s face, and could hear his voice--hearing him saying words he never wanted to hear again--but most of all, he could feel him. 

Hands were all over him. Skip’s hands. They wouldn’t get off, no matter how much he willed them to. They were all he could feel, and he wished he was anywhere but here and he didn’t have to feel these fucking hands all over him. 

Einstein. That’s what Skip used to call him--he could hear it now, too, but the tiny part of him that was still sane registered that Skip wasn’t actually here. He still had an irrational hatred of the physicist and detested whenever they learned about him in class. And now all he could hear was his old “friend” whispering in his ear. 

“C’mon Einstein, let’s touch each other like the people in that magazine!”

“I can’t do all the work, Einstein. You gotta help me out, too.”

“This is just what adults do.”

“You can’t tell anyone though, Einstein, it’s a secret.”

Vaguely, Peter felt the cool wall of the bathroom on his forehead. He tried to focus on that. Ignoring the hands he could still feel all over his body, and the voice that made him feel about two seconds away from vomiting, he thought about the bathroom wall. He pushed his head into it harder, and it was starting to hurt a little bit, but that’s okay because a tiny bit of pain from a wall was much preferable to thinking about the boy who’d hurt him years before.

Eventually, this horrible panic attack ended, and Peter breathed slowly, leaning still against the bathroom wall. He checked the time and noted that it was already fifteen minutes into class. There was absolutely no way he was going to this class. He was still shaking, and he was so tired he felt just about ready to fall asleep right there. Apparently, he’d been crying, although he hadn’t noticed, and his face was undoubtedly tear-stained and the rims of his eyes red. He wiped his face but doubted that helped fix his appearance at all. 

Okay, so he’d skip this class but go to last period. There was no way he could skip last class because he shared it with both MJ and Ned, and they’d definitely be worried if he didn’t show up--well, Ned at least. He wasn’t so sure about MJ yet. He knew he’d have to deal with Aunt May later on the topic of skipping this class, but he’d deal with that later. 

He was going to be okay. 

Even as he sat, hugging himself, sitting on the toilet seat with tears drying on his face, he told himself this. 

He was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically me pouring my own feelings into the page. I do have a second part planned, but I'm not sure when I'm going to write it yet. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
